Misery Likes Company
by MarinaEverlasting
Summary: "Nelo Angelo might be reminding Trish why she's alive now, but it won't be forever; such a word is quite a lofty statement for the son of the traitor. Under Mundus' reign, his existance was flimsy, and by consequence, so was hers. Mundus held the strings of their lifes in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other." Pre-DMC1. Trish and Vergil.


**Misery Likes Company**

* * *

There was something strange about him**. **

He was rather handsome, ethereal even; white skin that showed blue veins way too much, white hair, purple coat. His eyes were bright red. Yet, there was something distinctly limp and lifeless about him… His short, straight hair and long, ornamental attire hardly ever moved. _He might as well be dead. _He hardly ever responded when she touched him, so it might not be entirely a lie.

Nelo Angelo only shows tid bits of emotion so others knew he was alive. Anything else was considered a waste of time. Still, she couldn't tear herself apart from the human-looking demon even when she wasn't ordered to be by his side. There was something strange in him that brought her to stay, even more strange than his looks or the blazing hatred her master held for him. She was, after all, created to be his shadow, a thorn in his side, and he was Nelo Angelo, Mundus' second favourite toy that he would like to break over and over again.

Nelo Angelo looks and acts like a corpse, he stares at her for some moments when she speaks to him, as if she had just slapped him, and then he would go back to ignore her. It felt like talking to a wall, that's how it always went: either he cuts through her words with a sharp comeback filled with the deadliest of venom or he simply ignores her. Her general has lots of apathetic responses in store for pretty much everyone. Still, she always came back. She was, quite easily, one of the stupidest demons of Mundus' army Nelo Angelo had ever observed.

"Hey, prince charming, are you awake?"

Still silence.

Trish was always there.

Trish liked hurting other beings.

She liked hurting Nelo Angelo the most. He could be as cruel as he wanted to Trish, but Trish would do the same and would never leave. She was aware he hated her. Then again, who did he not hate? Nelo Angelo despised everyone in his army.

The three red orbs would growl at her, the voice echoing through the white chambers:

_Don't let him rest, tear him apart, until ashes are left! Break, break...!_

And so she does.

_I'll never let you go._

"Of course you're awake." It was hard to tell when he remained static.

Nelo Angelo's eyes flickered open and was met with blue that ate his whole vision.

There was soft -yet cruel- laughter, too.

Trish was sat on Nelo Angelo's stomach as he lay on the bed of his chamber, helmet gone, armor gone, her fingers threading through his white hair. A nasty grin played about her lips as she looked at his never-changing expression, that ashen white face, too pale.

The black angel would always glare at her, face dour.

"Oh, if looks could kill~... Are you that upset with me?" The aloof demoness asks.

"Why, pray tell, should I lose my time in telling you?" He finally replied, voice coldly toneless.

Why wasting words on a lousy liar? The sound of his voice alone should burn her skin and sear ugly welts on it. It should destroy her ear-drums.

"It's what a weakling should do, right? Speak to those of higher rank."

That was a lie, and both knew it. If Trish was allowed to be with the black angel, do these things to him and live to tell the tale wasn't because she was of a higher rank or because he cared enough about her to not to kill her, but because the demon emperor, he who oh-so-kindly brought her to life, said this is how it should be, and Nelo couldn't dispute him. Therefore, he couldn't slash her and turn her into demon food. Not that this meant no one could hurt her. On the contrary, Mundus put Trish in Nelo's army and designed her to be something akin to his equal not only for amusement, but because he knew Nelo would fight her back and shape her into a merciless killing machine. If she could survive his constant attacks and brutal strength, she was fitting for her role, then.

Trish kept smiling. Nelo Angelo stared back at her with unblinking eyes. She was surprised he didn't jump at her, and a little disappointed, too.

The demon general always said 'no' to everything unless it was Mundus the one asking -but even so, Nelo Angelo wouldn't bother to cover his slight dislike for his master, even though he executed every single order that came from him skillfully, without objections.

He was quite something, wasn't he?

"Hoh? You don't want to talk?" No response. "… …That's okay, we can wait. After all, eternity's a pretty long time, don't you think, lover boy?"

Nelo Angelo, if anything, would just nod at her or make some kind of gesture with his hands or point at something with his sword if he wanted her to do something in his place. That was fine, it was one of the funniest of her duties: make him talk. Angering the other demons was easy, especially because of her 'disgustingly' human looks, but Nelo Angelo? That was a different story.

Her visits became a routine: Trish would come to his chamber only to start pestering him with her annoying questions and behavior: Watching him quietly, how he worked, how he moved... then she would whisper things in his ear about fake past times in the human world, singing him lullabies he had never listened before but made his head spin... She would always speak about trivia to him whenever they were forced to be close to each other, she would always tell him stories about a boy named Dante and his twin, and finally, she would mock him and try to beckon him to her. Her laughter would echo through all the rooms.

Nelo has not forgotten the days when his ever-so-nice master sent her to his cell every day. How she violated his mind and intimacy and dared to hurl abuse on him was a humiliation he could never let go just like that, nor forgive regardless of his past as a betrayed traitor. The lack of clothes and the feeling of oppressive chains around his wrists and ankles is not distant, neither is the memory of spears digging into his chest, intrusive white fingers tearing him open, multiple claws reaching for his internal organs and Trish sitting on top of his heart, watching him with a cold smile as his life slowly drained from him. Mundus tried to trap him in a dark room with the odds stacked against him that he would never find a way to untangle himself from his web of abasement and created the illusion of a partner, who is all smirks and cruelty, to wipe away any shred of pride in him that still remained.

Ever since the moment she first met him, she refused to go away and clung to him as if she were his own shadow, like droplets of rain -but he couldn't kill her, no, because that contradicted his master's plans and that would make him upset. ...Yet, he's not fearful of what Mundus would do to him if he were to kill Trish; it would be nothing out of the ordinary or different from what he has already done. To say he refrains himself from killing Trish because Mundus said so was a lie. It would be more accurate to say that Nelo Agelo doesn't think he would like to endure another full week of roars from Mundus, claiming how perfect his daughter was, how deadly, how utterly powerful his new creation was... it would be a terrible hassle.

Perhaps death would have been better, a more honorable ending for him, but the old prince of darkness, in spite of his disdain towards him, thought of Nelo as a valuable individual. Losing Nelo Angelo might be something the prince of darkness could not allow after all he went through to get him back where he belonged -on the dirt. Trish, on the other hand, was not that valuable: there's nothing remarkably especial about her, there would be no tragedy, no one to mourn her corpse if she were to die or cease to be useful to Mundus. Trish was not unique. She was a doll, nothing more, nothing less; and if a doll breaks, what do you do? You just buy or make yourself another. Mundus would simply create another Trish, and if he were to do so, that would only mean Nelo Angelo would have to go through the same process and go back to endure torturing conversations, teach her how to fight and use a sword again, or how to parry, how to use simple sorcery... In other words, be Mundus' daughter's pet again.

How bothersome.

It was a shame. Griffon had ran out of things to use as a scratching post and Nelo Angelo considered she fitted quite nicely for that role.

...The blond was being soft with her fingers as they tangled in his hair. Perhaps she was just trying to use that inverse psychology method with him, pretending to be nice so she could use him however she pleases. He won't fall for that. He wasn't Trish's plaything. Perish the thought.

The demoness was, as per usual, sniggering like she had done something naughty, strands of blonde hair bouncing, shoulders shaking... Nelo Angelo, by contrast, wasn't nearly as excited. However, she knows better than letting her guard down when in front of him, regardless of how relaxed he seems to be; she could have his sword pressed in the nape of her neck in miliseconds if he were to want to cut her head, or throttle her. He tried to do so once, there was no guarantee that it wouldn't happen again.

Her fingers twitched, electricity coming out of her fingertips.

"Or perhaps you're tired, darling? Is that why you don't want to talk?" She purred down at him.

Prod. Prod.

"I tire of you, woman." His face didn't give anything away.

Her giggles had now subsided but that cruel smile hadn't. Trish started to hum to herself softly some strange tune Nelo Angelo didn't know as her fingers trailed path down his face, stopping on his purple-ish lips to trace her fingertips around them.

Most demons' brain would shriek at them and beckon them to trigger and screw the nearest, tempting demon with wild abandon, if they were in his position. However, there's nothing in Trish that he likes or finds lusty, or likeable at the very least -and even considering her unflagging perseverance and stamina was pushing it. The thought alone was outrageous enough for his features to twitch slightly.

Nelo Angelo didn't like her pointed smiles. They looked ugly on her face, like caricatures of real emotions she doesn't have, but pretends she has. He certainly didn't like the sound of her voice, either. She sounded calm and composed, almost like a mother, but she was anything of that, he could tell. She was all cruel smiles and false kindness, she was a mass of crumbling lies hiding under the skin of a charming humanoid demoness. She made everything sound soft and sweet and tricked others into trusting her -but he knew better than that.

She was a pretty robot in black Mundus made for the sole purpose of torturing him and keep Mundus informed of his doings. She wasn't created out of kindness or out of the goodness of the whimsical emperor of hell's heart. Trish was a tool created for his own amusement and selfish needs, a parody of a human who mimicked Nelo's movements and way of speaking; so fast, cold, and cruel.

...Perhaps what he hated the most was the blue of her eyes. They were too blue.

Those eyes...

"You want mama to kiss it better? What's hurting my little boy?"

"I told you to leave." He remains aloof even when his voice is commanding. He would not give her the satisfaction of hurting him, nor angering him. She had no control over him. She couldn't. You cannot hurt something that's already dead.

He's a soulless, empty-eyed demon purged of all weakness. Mundus' fingers tore his chest open, leaving a gaping wound where ribs had been broken. He'd pulled the flesh aside and any kind of roots of emotion were cut off before they fully bloomed.

Even if Trish is the one who comes to torment him, is rough and openly cruel to him, uses him as her personal pushpin doll, forces him to hours and hours of training, controls his agenda and laughs at his misery, Nelo Angelo is crueller, because no matter the circumstances, he would never humor her. Trish is a greedy child. She wants to dominate as much as her creator, she wants everything all for herself, to be revered and respected because her Master said she was the embodiment of perfection, and that was her reason of existing, but Nelo wouldn't give her that satisfaction and so he acts as if she didn't exist. Nelo didn't want to be domesticated by a prefabricated demon, nor be of her property.

He stares back at her.

Saying no words.

Not moving at all.

Trish got closer to her superior (in rank), unashamedly, her nose bumping with his. She was not being patient nor careful. Her hands pressed on his neck and smirked down at him as she looked at his dull eyes. She leaned in closer a little bit more and pressed her lips against his. The hands on his neck feel him tremble beneath her, from disdain and revulsion, possibly.

He stays perfectly still as Trish tries to open his mouth, licking tentatively his lower lip with her tongue.

Closing his eyes would just make this more intimate. The black angel doesn't trust Trish and cannot bring himself to close them. There was simply no point -this wasn't out of admiration, nor lust, nor love (absolutely not). Such a little act of trust was like handing his own self to her in a silver plate to the woman that was the candy warped with the pretty envelope and the rotten taste.

Trish wanted to see his stoic façade crumble, and Nelo Angelo knew this by how she stared down him, deeply engrossed. How did that so-called 'perfect maiden' dare stand there, on top of him, with a look in her eyes that declared, proudly, she was ___better _than him?

He glared back.

...Those eyes of the clearest of blues looked oddly familiar. It was followed by the feeling of a distant voice, soft and gentle, like the waves on a beach. A foreign sound to him, yet strangely comforting and... truthful.

They were…

They were…

_...No!_

_Stop it!_

The woman in black shrieked.

"Ah! You, why you..!"

Trish recoiled in pain, voice annoyed and devoid of the previous playfulness.

Nelo Angelo had bitten down on her tongue. If he had wanted to, he could have tear Trish's tongue off.

The blonde in black looked at him surprised. The thought of Nelo Angelo going against her had never crossed her mind. At all. Her lips were stained in red. She tasted copper on her tongue -he had bitten hard and what was worse, he could feel her filthy blood on his mouth, too.

"If you haven't noticed, I don't want to play with you anymore." His voice left no room for discussion.

The demon general stood up from the messy bed, leaving the slightly pained and humiliated Trish by her own, a hand on her mouth and her eyes tightened in a glower. The tables had turned so quickly that it left her head spinning.

She didn't say anything back at him.

"You're a waste of space." With anything more to say, he left.

Yet, if Trish did not exist, if Trish vanished... Nelo Angelo would not have anybody left, abkereach out to him to hurt him, nor tease and annoy him mercilessly. Then again, though, he didn't want, nor need, to share any kind of companionship with someone, or be hugged tightly to their chest. He didn't want anyone, least of all an utter failure, foolish, rotten female with no sense of individuality to hold him and stay with him at night.

After all… he wasn't a human, and he was just fine by himself.

...If Nelo Angelo didn't exist, on the other hand...

_… __Don't you ever __dare____ to leave._

___If you leave… I won't know who I am._

___You must stay here._

Nelo Angelo might be reminding Trish why she's alive now, but it won't be forever; such a word is quite a lofty statement for the son of the traitor. Under Mundus' reign, his existance was flimsy, and by consequence, so was hers.

Mundus held the red strings of their lifes in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other.

* * *

**A/N:** Come to think of it, did Trish have another motivation aside from luring Dante? It's kinda pitying that Trish's probably only struggle to live were Mundus' orders, but we will never know. Hm, I wanted to write a pre-DMC1 story, but I have two problems: I know how to end the fic (I have a very good mental image of the ending), but I don't know how to start it and develop it. I don't know where to start D:  
Finally, I'm not in good terms with free time. I should be posting more one-shots in the future, though -and sending old and new one-shots to betas :3.

Ugh, this little one-shot is olddd, and since this is not a tragedy nor a comedy, I didn't know how to label it properly. ...I had this story posted here some time ago, but it was worse that this one. Like, a lot worse -it was a train wreck. I deleted it and I re-wrote it and... well, here I am, posting it again until I come back to edit it again (because I will). Now it's so much better ;A; Believe me, it is.


End file.
